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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27110329">Nobody Gets Me (Like You)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontbeeshy/pseuds/dontbeeshy'>dontbeeshy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stranger Things (TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Feelings Realization, Multi, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Work In Progress, season 3 but everyone's gay because i said so, they're all oblivious idiots</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:46:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,098</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27110329</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontbeeshy/pseuds/dontbeeshy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What would have happened if Jonathan was the one working at Scoops Ahoy with Steve, and Robin was the one helping Nancy at the Post?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jonathan Byers/Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley/Nancy Wheeler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>72</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Nobody Gets Me (Like You)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i had the idea of this while rewatching s3and was quite surprised no one seemed to have done it already so here we go. i'm not a native english speaker and this is not beta'd so i apologise if something sounds off. work's title is from the song by wallows and chapter's title by pulp. hope you have a nice ride with this chapter, homies!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In hindsight, maybe Jonathan should have applied for the internship at the Post. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It would have made a lot of sense for him to work there. He would have had the opportunity to take pictures for a living, and he would be spending his working days with his <strike>only</strike> best friend, Nancy. It would have made perfect sense. But instead here he was, scooping ice cream in the brand new shopping center in Hawkins and reconsidering every single one of his life choices. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Working at Scoops Ahoy wasn’t bad in itself. Yes, the dumb outfit was scratchy and the even-dumber hat that came with it made him look like he had put on some last-minute Halloween costume, and yes the constant air-conditioning and the fridges turned the place into a literal igloo, but at least, from the counter, he could keep an eye on Will. Jonathan could have sworn the party had come to the mall every single day since it opened, which made very little sense considering how little money those kids had. And yet, everyday they showed up at the parlor and begged for free ice cream and everyday Jonathan tried to explain to them how he couldn’t do that without breaking company policy. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And everyday Steve would give the kids free ice cream anyway.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Relax, Byers, it’s not like they’re going to destroy capitalism by eating ice cream,” he would say, scooping his way out of the argument.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yes, Steve Harrington was probably the worst thing about working at Scoops. Jonathan had no idea the other boy had also applied to work at the ice cream parlor, so it was quite a shock to see him on his first day at the job, wearing the exact same silly outfit as him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do you even know how to use that thing?” Jonathan had taunted him during their first shift together as Steve was trying, or rather failing, to scoop some mint-chocolate chip ice cream for a crowd of young boys who were shouting at him to go faster. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I mean, it can’t be harder than fighting interdimensional human-killing monsters, right?” he had joked out loud, making the kids shut up instantly. Jonathan had smirked, and just like that the ice was broken. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>That didn’t stop Steve from being his usual annoying self. Jonathan had stopped counting how many times the older boy had arrived twenty minutes late with a fresh cup of coffee, or how many times he had accidentally broken the milkshake machine by trying to make up his own drinks, or how many times he had forgotten to mop the floor before leaving, forcing Jonathan to do it for him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And yet, he hadn’t stopped counting how many girls Steve had tried to pick up during his shifts. Twenty-eight so far, including six today only. He also counted how many girls had told Steve to get lost. Twenty-eight so far, including six today only.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Looks like you’re on a roll today, Harrington.” Jonathan said while cleaning the counter as another group of girls walked out of the shop. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I swear it’s because of the hat.” Steve complained, taking the piece of fabric off of his head. “I mean, my hair is my best feature!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh yeah, that’s it for sure.” he smirked. “It probably has nothing to do with your terrible pick-up lines.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Excuse me? My lines are perfect!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Really? You just asked that girl if she knew CPR because she, and I quote,  ‘took your breath away.’”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What’s wrong with that?” Steve asked, genuinely confused</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Everything!” Jonathan answered, laughing. “I’m honestly starting to wonder how you managed to date so many girls in high school if you’re really that bad at flirting.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I had no inspiration, okay? Usually, my lines are better!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You mean the one where you ask them if it hurt when they fell from heaven?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay, that one’s a classic! You can’t deny its increible seductive power.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sure,” he scoffed .”Whatever you say.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jonathan would be lying if he said he didn’t like the dynamic he and Steve now had. It was weird, going from enemies to monster-fighting buddies to coworkers; and somewhere along the way, it seemed they had become friends. Or at least, they had stopped insulting each other and now they made fun of each other instead, which was already an undeniable improvement.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I mean, I see you criticising my moves a lot but you haven’t got any girl’s number either.” Steve noticed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, it’s probably because I don’t want to get their numbers, Steve.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why not? What’s wrong with a little fun?” Steve asked. “Unless you lied to me all along and you do actually have your eyes on Nancy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Not everyone has their eyes on Nancy, you know?” Jonathan muttered. “We’re just-”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Just friends, I know.” Steve nodded as he indiscreetly dug a spoon into the strawberry ice cream tray and shoved it in his mouth. “Then there is no reason for you to refuse!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Refuse what?” Jonathan asked, already regretting it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I dare you to ask a girl out.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What do you mean ‘no’?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Steve, you graduated high school. I don’t think I have to explain to you the meaning of the word ‘no’.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“C’mon, what are you scared of, Byers?” he teased, stealing some more strawberry ice cream. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m not <em> scared, </em>I just…” he drifted out, and dug his own spoon into the butter pecan.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If you do it, I’ll…” Steve started, pointing his spoon up in the air, but it was clear he had no idea where he was heading with that sentence. His words floated in the air for an embarrassing amount of time. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’ll be of moping duty for the rest of the week.” Jonathan eventually filled in.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Deal! And you <em> have </em>to keep the hat on.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Deal.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The two boys shook hands and Jonathan walked up to the cash register just as two girls conveniently entered the store, followed closely by Dustin who sat at a table and waved at Steve to join him. The older boy sat on the booth next to him, facing the counter so he could keep an eye on Jonathan. From there, he couldn’t hear what he was saying, but he was smiling and so were the girls, which wasn’t a good sign for Steve.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He had to admit, Jonathan had changed a lot since highschool. He had grown in confidence, there was no doubt about it. He was still an introvert, yes, and he was still an outsider, also yes; but he was an introverted outsider who could trap monsters and burn them to death and also win a fight against Steve Harrington and then proceed to steal his girlfriend (“<em> for the hundredth time, Nance and I aren’t dating, Steve!”).  </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve had changed too. Apparently, high school fame didn’t follow you after high school, so he went from high school royalty to real-life anonymity really fast. It was weird at first, having to introduce yourself to people because they suddenly didn’t know who you were, but slowly he had realised how much he liked that better than meeting people who already had prejudice against him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hello? Earth to Steve, do you hear me?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve startled. He was so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t even realised Dustin was talking to him until now. “Yeah, sorry. What were you saying?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What do you think we should do about-- Hey, why is Jonathan waving at you? Is it time for your shift or something?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve looked up. Dustin was right; Jonathan was still behind the cash register, pointing to his left hand with his right index, a satisfied smile on his lips. Inside his palm were two phone numbers written in deep black ink. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Holy shit, he did it,” Steve breathed out. “He actually did it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>If he were truly honest with himself, Steve wasn’t that surprised. It’s not like Jonathan wasn’t good-looking, quite the contrary. He could see why the girls would fall for his messy hair and his shy but genuine smile, or for his kindness and good-heartedness, or for the way he whispered more than he talked as if he was always telling you some big secret you should never repeat, or for the way he stared at you intensely whenever you talk as if you were the only thing in the room. Yeah, he could definitely see why girls would fall for him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Maybe I should ask <em> him </em>about relationship advice next time.” Dustin said teasingly. “So anyway, what do you think we should do about it?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“About what?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“About the Russians.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“About what Russians?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The Russians who are planning to attack us?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Steve stared at Dustin as if the boy had just grown an extra pair of arms, and Dustin sighed loudly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You haven’t listened to anything I said, am I wrong?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Erm...I think I may have drifted off after you said ‘Hi Steve’...”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I never said ‘Hi Steve’, Steve.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That explains it.” Steve smiled awkwardly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Maybe if you stopped giving Jonathan the heart-eyes I wouldn’t have to repeat myself.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wow, I wasn’t…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Whatever, now listen to me.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dustin came closer and whispered something in his ear that sounded more like gibberish than actual English.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The boy whispered the exact same thing again and Steve could have sworn he was making it impossible to understand on purpose.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“ I INTERCEPTED A SECRET RUSSIAN MESSAGE!” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>WHAT</em>?” they both heard, coming from behind the cash register. </p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>In hindsight, maybe Nancy shouldn’t have applied for the internship at the Post. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sure, it was a great opportunity and it would look awfully well on her resumé, but the job itself was boring her to death. If she had wanted to spend her days running lunch and coffee errands, she would have applied to work at the diner instead.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It didn’t help that all the journalists at the Hawkins Post were men of her dad’s age who laughed too loud, ate like pigs and had apparently never heard about deodorant. Needless to say they had started belittling her on her very first day. She really wanted to stand up to them and their misogynistic jokes, but strangely enough, it was easier to face a literal monster than a bunch of bigoted men. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>As it turned out, the only good thing about working at the Post was Robin. Nancy didn’t remember her from high school, but Robin apparently did, which immediately made her feel guilty.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s alright.” Robin had reassured her. “Popular kids never remember the nerds.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I wasn’t popular.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You were dating <em> Steve Harrington </em>.” Robin had scoffed. “That’s pretty much as popular as one can get.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nancy didn’t like to think of herself as popular. Being popular meant people were talking about you without actually knowing you; it meant you had a reputation. She was scared of what hers may be, of what Carol and Tommy had told others about her. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Whatever her reputation was, it hadn’t stopped Robin from befriending her. The two girls had grown quite close, killing time together during their long hours of work. They would draw moustaches or funny faces on pictures of people in old newspapers, or play Would You Rather, or make prank calls pretending to be very important people. Nancy learned that Robin liked her coffee black, that she prefered dogs to cats and that she would rather eat junk food everyday for the rest of her life than not being allowed to eat a burger ever again. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yes, they were friends. Or at least, Nancy hoped so. She couldn’t imagine her workdays without Robin’s snarky comments at their boss, or without Robin’s cute dinosaur drawings on post-it notes, or without Robin at all, to put it simply. She had become such an important part of Nancy’s life in such little time, and that terrified her. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It had probably something to do with Barbara, Nancy figured out one day. Ever since Barb’s disappearance, since her <em> death </em> , Nancy was having trouble making friends. She was avoiding making friends, actually. Part of her still blamed herself for Barbara’s demise. <em> She </em> had been the one begging Barb to come with her to Steve’s party, and <em> she </em> had been the one telling her to go back home alone. If it hadn’t been for Nancy, Barb would have spent the evening quietly studying at home or watching some TV and she would still be alive today. Nancy didn’t want anyone else to die because they were her friend, and if it meant having no friends, so be it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Of course, she had Jonathan, but that was different. Their friendship relied mostly on the trauma they shared and helped each other coping with. Every Friday night, they would rent a couple horror films and watch them in the Byers’ living room, with the volume as low as possible so it wouldn’t wake up Will. They would make fun at the dumb protagonists who always ran right into danger and they would come up with their own plan to defeat this or that monster or serial killer from those movies. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s better to be prepared.” Jonathan would always say. “Just in case.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And Nancy couldn’t agree more.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There was Steve too. Their interactions had become a bit awkward ever since their breakup, but once again, Nancy was one of the very few who knew why Steve kept a bat full of nails in the truck of his car, or why he now slept with a knife under his pillow.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s better to be safe.” Steve had told her that one time when he invited her to his place to watch a couple funny movies and she almost impaled herself in the buttcheek when sitting on his bed. “Just in case.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And Nancy couldn’t agree more.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But she had missed having a simple friendship, one where she could talk about shallow things and forget for a moment everything that went down the past two years. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Robin was everything she needed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I swear Bruce is trying to push me to quit.” Nancy complained that day as she walked up to Robin who was doodling something on a piece of paper. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What did he say again?” the other girl sighed, putting her pen down.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He whined because his coffee was too hot? But that’s the whole point of coffee!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Next time you should throw it at his face.” Robin smirked. “That’ll teach him.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You know what? I just might. I’m tired of that ridiculous job.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What?” Robin faked surprised. “Did Nancy Wheeler become a rascal overnight?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nancy rolled her eyes, faking annoyance. “If only they’d listen to me, just one time. They would understand that I’m more than what they see.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She sat down and took a sip of her own coffee, which was not at all too hot, thank you very much. She glanced at Robin’s drawing, which was a pretty accurate caricature of their boss. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Maybe the Post will offer you an actual job if you do caricatures for the paper.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nah.” the other girl sighed. “Dissident art loses its nature as soon as you’re paid to do it. And anyway, I would go crazy if I had to stay here for longer than the summer.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You and me both.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nancy put her cup down and gazed outside the window. The street was still the same, with the same cars parked in front of the Post and the same people eating the same sandwiches on the same benches and the same children playing the same games on the same sidewalks. Sometimes, she almost missed hunting and fighting the Demogorgon. At least, it had put some thrill into her life.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Would you rather brush your teeth with shampoo or wash your hair with toothpaste?” Robin prompted.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wouldn’t the shampoo intoxicate me?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Say it doesn’t.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nancy pondered the question for a few seconds. “Still, I would choose the toothpaste. It would destroy my hair but I’ll just wear a wig. Replacing your teeth is way more expensive.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You know you don’t have to justify your answers, right?” Robin teased. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nancy stuck her tongue out, making Robin laugh. It was a loud and genuine laugh, the unashamed kind, the kind that made you feel all fuzzy and warm inside. At least, that’s how it would make Nancy feel, but she figured anyone would feel the same way with Robin. She was like that. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay, my turn.” Nancy said, sipping on her coffee. “Would you rather time-travel to the past or to the future?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Future.” Robin answered without a second of hesitation. “The past is boring, anyway. Plus, I saw this new movie about that guy who travels to the past and ends up almost banging his own mom. That was traumatising, trust me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nancy laughed and she wondered if her laugh was fuzzy and warm to Robin. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Would you rather live under the sea or on the moon?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“On the moon.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I thought I didn’t have to justify my answers.” Nancy replied using Robin words. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You don’t. I would pick the moon too anyway.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Would you rather know when you’re going to die or how you’re going to die?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Robin raised her eyebrows. “Damn, Nancy Drew, that’s a dark one. Everything okay at home?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She only realised now how dreadful it sounded. “Uhm, yeah. Sorry, I--”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’d rather know when.” Robin answered, staring at a pigeon on the street that was pecking at a cigarette butt. “Because if I know that I’m gonna die, let’s say, in a plane crash, I’ll forever be scared to travel by plane, even if that plane crash happens in 70 years. I would have spent all this time being afraid for nothing.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nancy thought about it for a while. Two years ago, she would have answered the same thing. But she had faced death since, and seen things she couldn’t unsee and couldn’t explain to a therapist. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’d rather know how.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Because I’d rather spend my whole life fearing planes if it meant knowing monsters won’t kill me. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No reason.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Alright, would you rather-”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The phone rang, and Robin picked up immediately. Nancy only heard one half of the conversation, Robin’s “uh-uh” ’s and her “okay” ’s, but she had the feeling that something important was happening. Robin scribbled down something, an address, on a Post-it note next to a cartoonish triceratops. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Who was it?” she asked as Robin hung up. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Maybe the thing that will make Bruce and the others take you seriously.” She replied, standing up and heading towards the door. “Are you in?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nancy followed her and slammed the door on her way. </p>
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